Momma Egderp
by homestuckAssemble
Summary: This was certainly a fine predicament you'd gotten yourself in. You felt you could say that now, at the end of the most reckless day of your life. Every aspect seemed to have finally calmed down from the beating of your heart to the baby sleeping in Dave's arms. Oh yeah. Bro is a baby. [[This was written by me and my Moirail (Zachary Inita on AO3) Enjoy! ]]
1. Chapter 1

Be John:

This was certainly a fine predicament you'd gotten yourself in. You felt you could say that now, at the end of the most reckless day of your life. Every aspect seemed to have finally calmed down from the beating of your heart to the baby sleeping in Dave's arms. You honestly hadn't fathomed that this would or even could happen, that when you finally were allowed to stay with your best friend — and for a good portion of the summer too — you would be taking care of Bro turned baby with said friend. The two of you had found him practically swimming in the clothes he had apparently been wearing that day, crying like a newborn although he looked too big to be one.

Needless to say the morning was a mess of trying to find out how to get him decent enough so proper clothes could be bought, buy a few outfits too many to be considered normal, then realize there was more to a baby than just clothing. The rest of the day was spent repeating that same pattern of buy, come home and remember. The repetitive task tired you both out but the necessity pushed you to keep going.

You revelled in the silence and relaxation present now.

Be Dave:

You're exhausted. Purely, utterly exhausted. Your legs burn from the amount of walking that John insisted on doing even though you had a car — granted he did have a point in saying a car seat was needed, but still. This pain could have been prevented. Furthermore, there is a sleeping and drooling mess of a baby in your arms that you are far from currently enjoying holding and under any other circumstance you would tell John to hold the kid. Right now though you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. He looked just as exhausted as you felt and after all, it was your family member who had decided to become shrunk and baby-fied.

Luckily that same family member had a stash of money stowed away for emergencies. You and John had placed a dent into that amount but, you reasoned, since you were buying for the original owner of the money you wouldn't be in too much trouble. On top of that, it was a pretty big emergency, so really Bro shouldn't get upset at all. Assuming he ever reverted back to his normal self. You'd rather not trail down that train of thought.

You found your eyes closing and nudged your friend next to you, rousing him from his half sleep. Together you made the trek to your room, your bed just big enough to hold all three of you. Bro laid between your bodies, still sleeping peacefully but who knew how long that would last? You figured he'd be safest between you and John since neither of you moved much while you slept and this way Bro wouldn't fall off the bed.

It didn't quite occur to either of you to buy a crib in your shopping spree.

Be Bro:

For you, there was nothing more satisfying than yelling at the top of your lungs right next to your brother's ear as he slept and not being bitched at because you did have a legitimate reason. It wasn't your fault you couldn't feed yourself right now.

You heard him curse and heard the teen on the other side of you nearly cry as you did. Obviously he'd been sleeping hard. You lost a bit of your joy knowing that — you had only wanted to wake Dave. Oh well. It was a price to pay. You did love having both of them awake to dote on you though.

Much to your dismay, you did fall for John's peek-a-boo game twice while you waited for Dave to warm up your food. In the end you were both giggling but at the time you honestly had no clue where he'd gone. It took you a few minutes to realize that he was just behind his hands.

You suspected you wouldn't remember that tomorrow.

You suspected correctly.


	2. Chapter 2

Be Dave:

In all honesty, you thought the next day went a lot smoother than the one before. John made a list for you while you warmed up breakfast, just a small one. The smaller, more manageable items, ones that could be carried home in plastic bags by a stronger than he looked raven haired 17 year old, were out of the way now. This list consisted of large boxed items like a damned crib — "That would have been helpful last night, huh, Egderp?" — and the like. Possessions normal children had long before they were born. For a moment, you almost feel bad for Bro but given the way all this started, you dismiss the feeling.

Maybe it was the absence of a crying baby that made the day feel better. You hadn't finished your shopping until late in the afternoon since the two of you slept in late so most of your day was Bro and John free. That had actually made you feel guilty at some point even though your friend had assured you he'd be fine alone with the kid. It was only the second day with baby Bro and you knew John had as much of a clue on raising a baby as you did so of course you would worry — inwardly of course — at least a little bit.

Still he wasn't asking you to come home urgently and he had answered your messages on Pesterchum fairly quickly. There was no reason to worry. John was totally fine.

"The apartment is going to be burned to the ground, I know it."

Be Bro:

You realized quickly that your new caretaker loved talking, at least to you. From the moment Dave left, the air was full of some sort of sound escaping his lips, be it a laugh, a statement, or some variation of unpleasant sound when he was assaulted by smuppets or weapons in the kitchen. At least he had enough reflex to dodge them in time. You wonder briefly if Dave forgot to mention the traps to him or if it slipped his mind in the haste of taking care of you.

You also realized that John — that was his name right? — actually enjoyed taking care of you. If he held you, which he often did since you had no chair that could properly keep you sitting up and you could barely do it yourself, he was gentle, if not a little clumsy at first. When he fed and played with you he had a compassion to his actions that made you question why he was putting so much effort into taking care of you. Not that you were complaining; you'd rather have this than almost any other alternative. The exception being an alternative where John's go to game wasn't peek-a-boo. It was starting to tick you off at how often you fell for that. Thank God for John's amazing intuition because almost immediately he stopped hiding behind his hands.

There was the occasional time when the two of you would travel to the computer area and John would conduct research to make sure his parenting wasn't too terrible, as he so kindly explained to you. When you sat with him for a long amount of time, especially once Dave was bugging him on Pesterchum and you found that the words made no sense to you now, he would bounce you lightly in his arms or in his lap. Again, a little clumsily at first — he nearly dropped you and you will admit you did cry because God damn that was scary when you were as small as you were now — but he got the hang of it like with everything else. The up and down motion actually became rather soothing after that.

You would not admit that his bouncing and the humming he did when he noticed your drooping eyes lulled you to sleep in his arms.

Be Dave:

You came home with everything on the list bought and ready to be brought up but you didn't have the heart to disturb the sight you were greeted with. When they'd fallen asleep you weren't sure, but seeing John and Bro sleeping on the futon together was definitely an overload of cuteness. As quietly as you could, you fished out your phone and snapped a picture of this moment. Blackmail was your motive, of course. You would delete it as soon as it lost it's blackmailing purpose and ironic value. Yes. Totally.

You toed off your shoes and absconded to your room to change into more comfortable clothes, intending to stay home for the remainder if the day. After a thorough inspection of said home, finding nothing broken or burned, which included the two boys on the couch, you deemed it dinner time.

Be John:

You woke to the delicious and familiar smell of pizza. Sausage and pepperoni, you noticed upon opening your eyes. Dave had ordered a large from some small family place you didn't have in Washington and was chowing down quite enthusiastically on it. Sitting up carefully since you did remember that you had an infant in your arms, you greeted your friend, "Morning dude. When'd you get home?" A long yawn followed your question, which was then followed by a much smaller yawn which you realized came from the baby in your arms. A smile spread on your lips before you could stop it.

"Like an hour ago. You were sawing some serious logs so I took the liberty of making dinner." He held up his half eaten slice of pizza in triumph. A laugh passed your lips. You suppose you couldn't blame him; this was as normal as it could be for him. You made a mental note to try to make dinner for two one night as you shifted from the futon to the floor — not an easy task with a baby tucked into the crook of your arm.

The pizza tasted like heaven after you remembered you'd barely eaten the entire day. You shifted again so you sat Indian style now, Bro laying in the dip of your lap to free up both of your hands. Dinner itself felt natural and made up for the hectic way the previous day molded — you laughed when Dave commented on you moaning every time you bit into a slice; Bro giggled when Dave placed a sliver of pepperoni on his nose, making sure to remove it before it could be eaten; and Dave nearly died of laughed when pizza sauce all but drenched your shirt after an odd bite ripped the cheese off a full slice of food.

All in all, the night ended well. A night like this early on in your new situation gave you both hope and fear for future days. After all, from here, it could only get better or worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Be Bro:

They spent the next few days loafing around. It had to have been at least three although who knew with your sleeping schedule? You felt like a neglected battery powered smuppet at this point, turning on and off at random times, waiting to just be one or the other. It was a huge inconvenience.

There you went again. Powering down.

Be John:

You were certain now that Dave had no idea what the hell he was doing and you honestly weren't afraid to tell him that either.

He responded with, "Dude, I'm doing this right. It looks exactly like it does in the picture just with a little Strider irony tucked into it. It ain't complete without that touch."

You argued that most of the pieces were upside down.

"That's the ironic part, Egderp. C'mon, get with the program!"

This time you shook your head, choosing to look at the sleeping child in your lap. When he had dozed off, you had no idea but you were glad for it. After pizza night, the days had been relatively quiet but last night Bro had fussed and kicked and cried no matter what either of you did. He hadn't been hungry, hadn't needed changing, hadn't needed anything really. You thought maybe he just wanted a bit of affection and while the kind words and cuddles seem to satisfy him — it was three in the morning at that point so you were more than thankful — he still seemed to want something else. Dave thought maybe he was coming down with a cold and was just uncomfortable which you hadn't dismissed yet. You knew Bro's immune system was down, both from the shock of becoming a child again and from having a child strength immune system. You knew very well that discomfort could be pained and stressful, especially on such a small body. If he was still fussing tomorrow you decided you would see if a store nearby had any lotion to help soothe him and medicine to help him recover in case it did turn out to be a cold.

You looked back up at your partner in crime — or parenthood — finding him worse off than before. He would refuse it, you knew, but you offered him help. He barely acknowledged you at all. You nudged the instructions packet closer to him with your foot, hoping he'd get the message. He didn't touch it but he did turn to stare at it, contemplating.

You decided to test something. Standing, Bro in your arms, you fled to the kitchen saying how you wanted a drink and asked if he wanted anything as well. You snuck a glance back at him and saw him studying the instructions intently, as you expected. You shook your head.

What a guy.

Be Dave:

Maybe you had gotten carried away in your ironic doings, so sue you. John wouldn't have even remotely begun to understand it and Bro was too young to comprehend it let alone praise you for it so you figured you might as well lose the Strider touch. You could decorate it ironically, if one could even decorate a crib. You were almost positive you could since it needed lining and pillows and blankets just like a normal bed. Just smaller in size. Although maybe you shouldn't hype it with too much irony — it was for Bro and though baby-fied, he was still the master of all things ironic. He probably wouldn't appreciate your attempt as much as you would.

Speaking of Bro, shouldn't him and John have been back from the kitchen by now? You tore your eyes away from the sheets of paper in your hands and looked around, spotting John staring at you from the kitchen. He grinned goofily, waving. It surprised you how he was so confident in holding the kid, just having his one arm supporting his body and head. Cheesy as the sight was, you found yourself enjoying it. Your friend genuinely seemed happy with your brother in his arms and you by his side. You supposed he was just glad that neither he nor you were alone in this. You could rely on each other and, having been friends for over four years, could trust each other. You turned back to the instructions, feeling your shoulders relax.

You weren't alone in this. Neither of you were.

Be Bro:

You woke up again in the confines of a decent crib, bars high, blanket soft and Li'l Cal placed in one corner as a stuffed animal substitute. Seeing him put a pleasant feeling in your chest; it was thoughtful of your two caretakers to put a familiar face amongst all these new objects. You imagine it was John's idea to put something with you and Dave's to put Cal. Maybe a smuppet at first but you can also imagine the fuss John probably put up at that suggestion. You'd only know him for a few days and you could confidently say that he was such a mom at times.

You found quickly that moving was not an option for you. Sure there was enough room for it, you just couldn't do it. The best you managed was some strange wiggle on your back, all flailing limbs and no progress. The process was more infuriating than you thought possible, especially since you really wanted Cal closer to you. You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, much to your chagrin. Those tears only served to frustrate you further, which in turn only added to the amount of tears you already had. A vicious, unending cycle was what you decided it was. You also decided that you'd never get mad at a crying kid again if they felt like this constantly.

It wasn't long before Dave had come rushing into what you learned to be his room once he picked you up and you got a good look around. You found he wasn't too shabby at holding you, thought not as gentle as John. He soothed you the best he could and you found yourself longing for the touch of the absent teenager. Dave just wasn't quite as natural at the bouncing and he completely forgot to hum. Unsatisfied as well as irritated now, you continued to cry.

Be Dave:

This was exactly why you didn't want kids. You never knew what they wanted or when they wanted it. You'd mastered building their necessary products — the crib was completed, you had finished what little needed to be done for the high chair and you were opening the car seat box when Bro had started crying — but for the life of you, you couldn't take care of the kid himself. You couldn't even ask John for help. You didn't have the heart to wake him up. He needed the sleep as much as Bro did, as much as you did really. You'd all been up last night for hours.

You gave up for a minute, laying Bro back in his crib and pushing Cal towards him. He quieted, though not much, still obviously wanting something. He had been fed just before he slept and it didn't seem like he needed to be changed — you were really getting the hang of knowing when he did need it — and now he had a toy of sorts.

You sighed, "Sorry, Bro, Momma Egderp's asleep right now."

Why did John have to be so damn good at this? What were you doing wrong that you couldn't even satisfy your own family?

"Momma?"

You blinked. Five days had passed, nearly six now, and you hadn't heard a word from Bro's lips besides the nonsensical babbling that John adored and imitated. You should probably go wake John now, sleep be damned. He would kill you if he found out he missed this.

Bro repeated his word, a bit more forcefully. Yeah that also probably meant he wanted John. A wise man would leave and return with the raven haired teen. You were not a wise man. You were a teenage boy, awestruck by your baby's "first" words and you stood there, captivated by hearing your Bro talking after six days of only crying and coos.

You carded a hand through your hair, finally seeming to snap out of your daze.

"Holy shit. Don't repeat that." You tack on the second statement as an afterthought. However, like the devil child Bro apparently was, he repeated it anyway. Just once, to piss you off probably, before he went back to hugging Cal and saying Momma over and over again. You tried once more to explain that John was sleeping and he really needed it and that you swore you'd show him Bro talking when he woke up but the tiny baby was just having none of your shit. It made you wonder how much of that brain was really a baby's.

With a sigh, you decided to indulge in the little brat and grab his "momma".

Be John:

Worth it. Forcing your eyes to open, your legs to move, your feet to support your weight was absolutely worth seeing Bro call you momma and holding onto your pointer finger with one tiny hand as you held him. You were exhausted and half wished you hadn't fallen asleep on the futon due to the stiffness it induced but you were happy, Bro was happy and Dave —

Well, Dave actually looked more perplexed than anything. There was a debate going on in his head, you could tell. He wouldn't tell you his thoughts now, not when you were this happy, not when you were this tired even. He'd wait a few days to pop it out and that was fine by you. As long as he did say it eventually.

You wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been chewing his lip. When you guys started video chatting on Pesterchum, you saw him pick up the habit and use it when he knew he would say something that would be upsetting. A cute little habit and rather informative. You were glad he unconsciously picked it up.

The evening went by uneventfully. Bro was sleeping after his little talking fest; you and Dave ate dinner together before you went back to sleep upstairs. You're not sure when he joined you in the bed, nor did you know why — it occurred to you that you two didn't have to sleep in the same bed or even the same room. Bro was easily heard from anywhere you went inside your own living space. Yet ever since that first night the two of you crawled into Dave's bed together, barely able to fit. You were glad he was there though; Dave was warm in the spot beside you and he could quickly tell you that he was getting Bro when he'd started to cry, could quickly say you needed the sleep still and he needed the practice with the kid. Stunned in your half asleep state, you watched him change and attempt to feed Bro, a smile creeping onto your face.

He really wasn't as bad as he claimed to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Be Bro:

You found that your high chair was extremely uncomfortable to sit in and you made sure that your caretaker knew that until you were taken out of said chair. John set a pillow on the seat which helped more than you thought it would. You promptly hushed up, squirming only occasionally as he strode around the kitchen.

"We are going to surprise Dave today." Dave was absent from the house today. He was at a job interview that all of you had forgotten about for more than obvious reasons. Your two caretakers had been excited from the moment they had found out about it, John even more so now that he'd convinced himself that Dave would get the job.

You made an inquiring noise, vaguely feeling proud of yourself for being able to control the way it sounded.

"We're going to bake him a cake! Well, I will. But you'll keep momma company won't you?" He pressed his finger to your nose lightly and you scrunched up your face, attempting to move away from him. That sensation had not been a pleasant one at all. You hoped your feelings were conveyed. They were, thankfully. John backed off, giving you an apologetic forehead kiss, and started to go around the kitchen in search of what little food products you did have.

You could already tell where this was going.

"Well, Bro."

Please, no. They hadn't used it yet but you had seen around the house. You knew it was convenient and would free up both of John's hands but it looked even less comfortable than the high chair.

"Looks like we're going out to shop."

Be John:

Getting him into the carrier was the most difficult task you've ever had to perform with Bro but once he was settled in it and it was strapped securely to your body, he seemed fine with it. He was faced towards you, his head resting on your chest, his hands clutching your shirt lightly. He seemed almost content to be so close to you; you found your chest swelling with warmth knowing that.

You giving him his shades also seemed to calm him down. He hadn't been wearing them inside the house — neither you nor Dave had really thought about it, finding other matters more pressing than giving Bro a pair of shades that actually fit him — but you could tell he was happier with that small familiar pressing of plastic on his face.

Ready and raring to go — after double checking to make sure Bro's carrier was secure and that you had your phone, the spare key Dave gave you, and a bottle for Bro — you headed out in the scorching Texas heat, mentally noting that water should be added to your list of things to travel with next time. There weren't too many ingredients you needed, mainly just cake mix, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to restock on milk and sugar and the like.

Luckily for you there were plenty of sales this week. You needed to save all the money you could, especially with the only source of income diminishing fast and Dave still out of a job until further notice.

"Did the girlfriend leavve you wwith your kid today?"

A voice spoke out to you while you were picking a cake mix to use for Dave. How did your dad manage to make so many so often? These were all so expensive! Then again, he did have a job and he also used the brand that was on sale and cheapest right now. Oh how life loved to conspire against you.

You took note of the question at hand now, at the way the man who spoke to you seemed to hold onto his V's and W's just a little too long to be considered a slip up or your imagination — an interesting quirk to his speech. You didn't have a girlfriend, nor was Bro biologically your child, even if you were finding that harder to believe with each passing day. You gently placed your hand on his head; he looked up at you with that tired but content expression that once again made your chest warm.

"I don't have a girlfriend," You finally decided on saying. "It's just me and my friend taking care of him." You found that, while considered unorthodox and despite finances becoming slowly tighter, you were happy with where you were: with the closest you've had to a family outside your dad. You felt very much whole around Dave, and always had. You felt an immeasurable amount of happiness knowing that Bro was even still alive because of you two, that he was just as happy and that he was most likely healthy too, if not a little thin.

"Just you twwo?" There was an unspoken _wwell that wwon't do _that you could almost hear in your head, invading your thoughts. You knew the situation didn't seem right at all — you were 17, girlfriendless and with a baby that had to be a good few months if not a year old. You still weren't sure — however you decided that you would refuse any help that came from someone who didn't know all of this story when there was just so much of it to read. "I wwish you luck." You gave him a word of thanks and he left it at that.

In the end, you did the unspeakable and bought Betty Crocker cake mix, debating on telling your father the entire way to the checkout line. You almost convinced yourself that, if you did tell him, he would fly out to Texas immediately to tell you in person about how proud he was. Had you not been interrupted by a familiar voice, you may have succeeded in convincing yourself.

"Wwould you like a ride home?"

You look behind you while you're placing groceries onto the conveyer belt, blinking somewhat in surprise. You hadn't paid much attention to the man earlier, too busy trying to muster up enough willpower to grab the wicked box of cake mix. Now you were face to face with him and couldn't deny that he was attractive — alluring almost. He had a streak of purple through jet black hair that looked almost darker than your own; silvery grey eyes hid behind squared glasses: a scarf wrapped around his neck despite the immense heat which he must have felt to some degree since he was a wearing short sleeved shirt and shorts. His skin had a tint to it, lavender, barely noticeable, as if he'd put stage makeup on and the sweat from his face had screwed it up.

"Wow." You find yourself whispering, caught completely off guard. You recover quickly. "Ah, no, no it's fine, I don't have a lot of —"

The mysterious man countered your argument with saying how it was too hot for a man to walk home with groceries and a baby. The day was still young and it had to be well into the 80s if not the 90s by now. The temperature would only raise from there.

You look down at Bro, chewing on a ball that you decided to buy him earlier in your trip since it was small enough for him to hold and large enough for him not to swallow. He had seemed so bored before having that ball, and it made up for forcing him into the carrier.

"I see your point... Would you really be willing to —" He cut you off with a smile and a nod. You continued staring at him rather blatantly until the cashier beside you coughed, snapping you from your haze so that you could pay. Hesitantly, you waited for the man to finish checking out, absently running your fingers through what little hair Bro had now. He fussed at first but gave in to the soothing touches. He'd fall asleep at that rate.

Without much warning, your helper scooped up the groceries at your feet, holding them in addition to the ones he already had in his hands. The muscles in his arms bulged slightly from the effort but he didn't seem to be struggling. You said nothing although several times you did reach out to take a few back. He moved the bags out of your reach, a grin on his face. He mentioned how irresistibly cute you were being by trying to change his mind; you immediately clammed up and stopped, your face warm, your hands toying with Bro again. One busied itself with the tiny blond locks on his head while the other was held by his hand as best as he could.

He even went as far as helping you into the car after putting the groceries in the trunk despite you insisting you could do it yourself. Bro did not hinder you in the slightest bit. You realized then that you were already so used to just working around the infant, that he had just become so easily integrated into your life.

A thought occurred to you. You still hadn't asked for this man's name.

You both spoke at the same time — the same question too if you heard correctly. A laugh passed between you and him, the sound rumbling through his throat and hissing between your teeth. An combination of noise but pleasant when put together this way.

"John." You decided to speak first then regretted it when he looked at you expectantly. He was waiting for you to introduce your baby. Of course you couldn't say Bro. That would be suspicious no doubt and you would never name your child that anyway. You feigned a more obvious realization, laughing briefly again. "Sorry. This is Dirk." Bro looked up at you when you said that, proving to Eridan that you were telling the truth, even though you weren't. Although the look Bro was giving you made you wonder...

Be Dave:

You felt extremely proud of yourself with how your interview went. Granted now you realized maybe you could have dressed up more for the occasion but at least your clothes were clean and somewhat professional. You admit the shirt was Bro's, popped collar and all, but the jeans were yours. They were black, brand new, never been worn before that interview and, if you did get the job here, they would never be worn again. You didn't wear your shades, instead keeping them in your pocket for when you needed them. Having them off made you feel somewhat vulnerable but it also let your interviewer see your determination raw and undeterred in your eyes.

You were pretty sure you'd get the job. You needed it badly at this point.

You caught sight of yourself in a window on your way home and paused in front of it. If you had your old shades instead of the ones John have you, and a hat to top it off with, you'd be the spitting image of your brother. The spitting image of him when he was your age anyway. It was almost scary how alike you two were in that respect.

Somewhat emotionally shaken, you whipped out your phone and pestered John, wondering how he and Bro were doing by themselves. Much like that second day, you found yourself worrying over them however this felt different. Back then, you worried because you were both clueless teenaged. This worry jabbed at your mind and provoked you into exaggerating it until John and Bro were all you thought of.

You chose a spot in some shade to sit in and waited for a response.

And waited.

_And waited. _

Be Bro:

_How the __**hell **__did he know your name? How? _

"My name is Eridan."

_Was it really just a lucky guess? Did Dave spill it? Did Dave even remember it? _

These and similar thoughts ran briefly through your head, unable to focus on one for long. You were honestly surprised you could focus on any of them.

When your head did finally calm down, you realized you were still in the car, still not moving, and your caretaker and this Eridan — Eridab? Eridamn? You couldn't remember what he had said, having had more pressing matters to consume yourself with — were chatting it up as if they'd known each other years ago and were catching up on all they'd missed. You doubted that was the case though.

You whined and squirmed in your carrier, grasping John's shirt and tugging it. You were tired, hungry and incredibly uncomfortable both around this man and in the carrier. Your crib was practically singing for you to lay in it, warm your body under the orange blankets that John had found around the house. You remember buying that blanket too, remember thinking how eerily well it matched the color of your eyes and how much Dave loved it when he used it. Your whining became more frantic, you're squirming harder for John to calm down.

You only settled down after they had both decided it was time to go home and John had given the address to the apartment and you were moving in that direction. John took you out of the carrier — _thank God in heaven _— mainly just to feed you but when you refused to go back into it, he sighed in defeat and held you. Tighter than usual but you supposed that came from the fact you were in a moving vehicle without a car seat.

Sated, warm and as comfortable as you could be in John's arms, you found yourself dozing off again despite your better judgement. To you, everything about the driver was fishy and you wanted to stay awake to keep an eye on him. Yet your eyes betrayed you, dropping slowly lower until your vision was as dark as your shades.

Be Dave:

You were going to kill him if he wasn't dead already. You would skip the strife, the chance for him to retaliate or abscond and just straight up murder him for doing this to you. It wasn't unusual for him to take a while to respond to a message from you and normally you would busy yourself in the meantime by spamming his account with messages until he came back but you figured he was legitimately busy since he did have Bro with him. Maybe the brat was putting up a fuss, as unlikely as that was. Kid fell asleep practically just by looking at John.

Twenty minutes into your waiting game, you decided to finally head home, ready to give John a thorough ass whooping for this oddball panic you were so patiently dealing with. Ten minutes passed before you actually stood and started for your apartment. After all, what if John was asleep? He wasn't that heavy of a sleeper though, especially when you both had to keep an ear out for Bro, and he didn't turn the sound off of his phone.

Maybe you should call him. Sleep be damned, you waited over half an hour and nothing. He deserved to have his sleep disturbed at this point.

Be John:

With your arms occupied, Eridan once again carries your groceries up the many stairs to the apartment you're living in. You speak quietly with him, enjoying his company for the most part. It felt nice to have someone to talk to again that wasn't Dave or unable to talk back to you.

When you reached the front door you asked if he would grab the door key from your back pocket, too afraid to move since Bro seemed to be very content with you holding him this way. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment as Eridan nodded, sliding his hand into your back pocket. You almost regretted wearing these shorts now. The pockets were deeper than your other pairs which was usually convenient for bottles and the like. Now they were just a nuisance. Your key was all the way at the bottom and the entire palm of Eridan's hand was over your rear before he could even reach the blasted thing.

You apologized more times than you thought possible. He only said how he was the one practically fondling you — he should be the one apologizing. He didn't though.

It was this position that Dave found you in.

It was this position you were almost sure you'd die in.


	5. Chapter 5

Be Dave:

Eridan — you immediately despised his name once you heard it and you probably would have even without the bias of seeing him in a compromising position with your best friend — was sent away easily enough. Sensing your anger, he slowly retracted his hand, quietly inquiring John if he still needed help. John, blushing brightly yet with a mortified expression on his features, shook his head. Dave had a key. Dave could carry the groceries.

You did do these things, silent the entire time. Your lower lip hurt and it wasn't until you went to speak that you realized you had been chewing on it.

The groceries were put away and Bro was upstairs in his crib — or so you presumed since John wasn't holding him anymore — by the time you decided to speak.

"So. What was that about?"

Silence. You watched John's adam apple bob as he swallowed rather harshly. Your arms crossed over as you waited for an answer, completely out of your element. If you were angry, like you were now, you strifed first and spoke later. The anger rising in you mixed with the worry from earlier and another foreign emotion that you could describe as jealousy but chose not to acknowledge at all. The combination created was not pleasant.

"I swear Dave, it wasn't what it looked like."

You snapped in response, "The hell it wasn't! Who is this Eridan, John? And why the fuck was his hand in your pants?" Admittedly, you could have tried harder to keep your cool. John certainly was trying if the way he purposely breathed slowly and heavily through his mouth was any indication. Damn it, you were pissed off though and you weren't John. You were Dave Strider and you weren't going to take this shit.

John gulped again, hands flexing and relaxing at his sides. "Dave, calm down. I met him at the store. He was just getting the key to the house out of my pocket okay? And they're kinda deep so he just had to reach kinda far and it was just a little awkward. That's all." You weren't assuaged. The story made some amount of sense but with all your emotions conflicting with your better judgement, it only served to anger you more. At least you'd gotten a hold of your voice volume.

"What, you couldn't do that yourself? You've got hands for a reason John. Why did he even come home with you?" As an afterthought, you added, "And why haven't you answered me? I've been trying to message you for the past hour!" Nix your last statement. You had absolutely no control over your volume. You could only pray in some part of your mind that Bro didn't wake up if you shouted too loudly. Him crying and having an even more frantic John was not what you needed.

Your friend's fingers were digging into his palms now when he flexed them. He was avoiding pressing his nails to his skin, likely afraid of hurting himself on accident. His nails did tend to get sharp when they needed trimming. "Well it's a little hard to open a door when your hands are full of a baby that likes to fuss when he's not sleeping and he was sleeping. He still is, might I remind you."

You waited for him to continue. He had stopped to take a few shaking breaths, truly trying to keep his cool.

"He offered me a ride home." You stopped yourself from interrupting. Your rant on how fucking stupid an idea taking a ride from a stranger was could wait. "Since it's blistering hot out —" He was starting to break now too, you could hear it in his voice. "—and I walked to the store. And I didn't answer you because I haven't checked my phone since I left the house."

Now you cut him off, mock and still nonexistent jealousy evident in your voice, "Of course you haven't. You were too busy swooning over _Eridan_."

That struck a nerve. Badly. His eye twitched at that and you could almost physically see the anger in his proverbial meter rising. His face was lighting up red again, his hand in trembling fists, no care of his nails cutting open his skin anymore. "_ Excuse you_? I wasn't _swooning _over anyone, Dave, I was more focused on buying shit to surprise you with because I thought it'd be nice if you had something to celebrate your fucking interview." John Egbert; status: snapped. "Why do you care so much about him anyway?"

"Him?" You scoffed, disgusted by the idea that you would even consider worrying over him now that he was out of your sight and hopefully life. "I don't give a shit about him. I care about you and our baby. You don't know if this guy was going to try to take Bro or if he was just some perverted asshole who literally wanted in your pants."

Oh yes. You played that card. You _knew_ that John would know your thought process. The chances of Eridan having been some creep were equally as possible as him meaning his friendly facade. You knew this was going to infuriate him. You had no fucks to give right now, to put it simply.

"He was just being friendly, Dave." There was an edge to his voice, teetering on the border of anger and...sadness? John's eyes were looking rather glassy, glazing over with a thin film of tears. "Not everyone out there is a creep. I would have done the same thing if the positions were reversed. People can be nice and not have an underlying meaning to it. As you can plainly see, I wasn't actually molested, Bro is still safe and neither of us were kidnapped or killed. _We are fine_." He enunciated each word in that last statement, clearly wanting the conversation to end even if it was on a bad note. You could both tell this escalation was only going to grow, not recede.

You ignored that statement.

Be John:

You honestly wondered how words still came from you. Your throat was too tight from holding in tears and the pain in your hands was beginning to distract your angered thoughts. Couldn't Dave just leave this alone until you both weren't nearing your boiling points?

"Just because people can be nice, doesn't mean he was being nice. You need to be careful, especially when you have Bro with you. You just can't accept random car rides from strangers. That's like basic survival 101. He could've easily snagged you both up and then where would we be?!"

A growl passed your lips, a sound you didn't expect to ever hear from yourself. Your words felt like daggers leaving your mouth and you hoped they stabbed your friend just as hard. You were beyond anger now, into an emotion you had never felt before or not in this intensity. "But he didn't Dave! Can't you just trust me to use my own judgement since I, you know, have that ability? He didn't give me any weird vibes and he didn't do anything except show me kindness! We're both safe and alive and here now! And..." Your voice wavered, the bravado and confidence you had disappearing in an instant. "And that's that." You finished weakly, drained from this emotional roller coaster you'd boarded with Dave.

Silence again. You hated it. You hated when Dave didn't speak. You hated the look he had in his eyes. You hated yourself for being the one that put that expression there.

You felt tears prickling your eyes again and blinked them back.

Dave heaved a sigh.

"Whatever."

_No. _

"I'll guess we'll both just pretend that it's no big deal because apparently you don't see what I mean by how dangerous it was."

_No. Please don't talk like that. Like you're just giving up. It's worse than the yelling. _

"We'll just pretend I didn't have a panic attack with you not answering me and then finding you with a stranger feeling you up."

_Dave, please. Don't... _

It was becoming harder to hold back your tears. Your chest felt heavy and yet hollowed out.

"Everything is just fucking perfect like it has been the last few days."

"Dave." You croaked out. He would have kept going if you hadn't. He had the energy and the willpower to go on all night probably. You took a moment to compose yourself as best as you could before starting again. "Dave, I know what you're saying. I _know _it was dangerous and probably more than a little stupid but I'm _trying _to tell you that it didn't happen. The worst case scenario didn't occur. No negative outcome came from my decision. I-I just thought..." You could hear your voice cracking. Your vision was blurring. You were almost positive your hands were bleeding too or were close to it. "I just thought m-maybe you should be ha-appy instead of mad _because _nothing happened. A-and it's not li-ike I'll see him a-again..."

Dave gave you no time to recover, the relentless anger back in his voice which you actually felt grateful for. Anything was better than that dejected husk of a human he was turning into beforehand.

"Happy? _You want me to be __**happy **__about this_? Do you even care how worried I was?" He treated you to a bitter laugh that made you cringe. You deserved it at this point; you really screwed up this time. Dave had every right to be angry. "Of course you probably don't, you were obviously too focused on the creepy asshole that gave you a ride home. Are you really so desperate for someone else that you'll practically forget about me for the entire day?"

Were you being desperate? He couldn't have meant that, not truthfully. He was just angry. Still, the seed of thought was sowed and planted into your mind. Maybe going so far as speaking so freely to a stranger was a little desperate when you had friends and family you could easily talk to. You could call up your dad or Rose or Jade. Your life wasn't just Dave and Bro even if it had felt that way for the past few days. You weren't a prisoner here, forced to meet with strange people and keep it secret.

You removed your glasses from your face, shoving them onto what surface was nearest to you. Palms wiping at your eyes, tears slowly starting to flow, you tried, again, to reason with your friend.

Be Dave:

Your entire being felt like it was shattering. You were a mirror and John had just grabbed his hammer and smashed you to bits. Your anger, your jealousy, all of the emotion you previously felt drained from you like the tears drained from John's usually bright blue eyes until you were left with one distinguishable emotion: regret. You'd made John cry and you regretted it. "John —"

He shooshed you.

_Excuse me?_

"John —" Despite your firmer tone, he hushed you a second time, leaving you feeling a little miffed again.

"Just let m-me talk damn it! Y-Yes I did thi-ink you'd be ha-happy or relieved t-to see us okay! I-I thought m-aybe you wo-wouldn't be as upset if y-you realized that!" He was blubbering now, having given up on both hiding and wiping away his tears. Each drop that fell off his nose or chin was another piece of your anger falling to the ground, only adding to the regret you felt in its place. You suddenly felt the pain of the entire conversation, the pain John had kept tucked away until this moment.

You stood there, arms slowly lowering to your sides again, dumbfounded.

"A-and I'm not desp-desp—" He sobbed in frustration at his inability to say what he wanted to. You bit your lip to keep from helping him. He'd only snap at you and you don't think either of you could handle that at the moment. "I-I was j-ju-ust lonely wh-while you were gone... "

Your feet finally decide that they could work in tandem with your legs again and you strode over to your unstable friend. Your one hand clasped itself to his shoulder, your grip firm and, hopefully, encouraging. Your other hand tucked itself under his chin and lifted his face so you were both staring at each other. For once you were glad you had a fairly equal height with him.

"Hey. I...I'm sorry for...blowing up like that. I am actually glad that nothing happened, don't get me wrong. I was just fucking worried over you guys and I've never...really had anything to worry over." You really needed to work on your heart to heart conversation talk. These awkward pauses were killing you. "Christ, I made you cry a lot huh?" You murmured, absently wiping at John's face. He seemed to be calming down a little.

He wrapped his arms around you and you found yourself happy with that. Having him holding tightly onto the back of your shirt, having him in your arms — it was a nice feeling, even with his wet face dampening your shirt when he buried his face into your shoulder. He was muttering into the red fabric, barely audible words about how stupid he was and how he really could have gotten them killed and how you had every right to be angry with him. You said nothing. You merely let him get it out of his system, holding him flush against you, holding him as tightly as you dared reason was in the range of comforting.

You didn't know how long you two stood there, in each other's grips, nor did you care. You were just glad to be in this position.

Before you could stop yourself, having felt so natural and simply _right _in this situation, you whispered a small, "I love you, John."

His reaction was instantaneous. He withdrew from you, probably only as near as he was since you were still holding onto him. Panic seized you. You screwed up — you pushed too much too fast. That was the worst time to even bring up that you considered having feelings for your best friend never mind just blurting out the big words. You had been ready to tear each other's heads off not ten minutes ago. Had it even been ten minutes since then? Time had slowed for you in his arms, lengthening itself until the tick of a second was the equivalent of a day.

Suddenly, time seemed to catch up with you, jolting into a Quickstep you hadn't been prepared for. Even if it was normal speed, compared to the slow pressing of bodies you had just shared with John, it felt like warp speed.

Suddenly, he was crying again, although there was a smile on his lips. His eyes were the usual wide, blue spheres. To you, every inch of him screamed of pure, unadulterated glee. Maybe you hadn't fucked up as badly as you'd originally thought.

There was an unspoken question despite all the joy radiating off of him. A small doubt that would shatter this image of bliss.

_Do you really mean that?_

You wouldn't lie to John and he knew that. He knew you wouldn't lead him through a game of false hopes and unironic lies. By the looks of it, he had thought that was the best that he'd ever do, that you would never say those words to him. When he started wanting you to say them you couldn't begin to fathom.

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to be the smooth string of rhymes it usually was.

His crying worsened. His grip tightened on you, pressing and pushing at you until you were flush against him again. You could hear his sniffles and sobs right by your ear and, had you not had to deal with Bro for the past week or so, you would say they were painful to hear in this volume. Yet through the tears, John still managed to speak, to return the love you'd accidentally confessed to feeling for him.

"I-I lo-ove you t-too, Dave..."


End file.
